Before you jump into a muddy one of these, listen to Peppa and put on your boots.

Tiny house on the beachfront Used to host crabs and toys Kings and queens will never Reside here unless your imagination Runs wild. Get too close to the water and your home is gone in a little while.

By day I walk on just two feet, A normal soul you’d pass on the street. But when the silver orb grows bright and round, My human voice becomes a howling sound. I wear a coat of sudden fur, Where once a man's soft features were.

I twist as I rise and turn as I fall, A shape that keeps moving though staying small. Found in a shell or a staircase of stone, I curve through the air like I am being shown. I am not a circle, yet I share its grace, A path that keeps bending in the same little space. What am I, so winding and tight in my style, A shape that keeps turning with natural guile?

I neither snake drains nor fit pipes tight, but when I fall from a tree you might take a bite.